


I-Markus, the exiled

by Brunodealb



Series: Monster Revolution [1]
Category: Monster Girl Encyclopedia
Genre: Freeform, Original Story - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brunodealb/pseuds/Brunodealb
Summary: The story of Markus and Sam's flight from the slaver nation of Anterzan.





	I-Markus, the exiled

I threw back more beer as I gazed at the uncontrollable drunk in front of me. She was barely of drinking age, but she hadn't hesitated to come to the bar as soon as she could. Tonight she was getting hammered.  
I thought back to the day we first met, twelve years ago...  
\-----------------------------------  
My family wasn't exactly poor, and we had made something of a name for ourselves over the generations. Nonetheless, money was a bit tight as my ninth birthday rolled around. Always prepared to push responsibility onto me way too soon, my dad's birthday gift was... A seven year old girl. An odd one, at that. She had arms and legs made of hardened scales, with claws at the end of each. Behind her, a swishing tail swung around frantically, and it looked as if on fire. Her face was mostly human, though it had pointed ears. And she did not look happy, as her arms were tightly bound behind her back. In short, I got a slave at the age of nine.  
Tzamntralah, or Sam, as I call her, was a Salamander, a variant of the somewhat common Lizardfolk you'd see around town. The difference? Besides the seemingly flaming tail and reddish hue, she had an absurdly short temper, and she tended to punch problems before even realizingthey were problems in the first place. Thanks dad. Must've tried to get the cheapest one he could.  
"Markus, this girl is your responsibility now. I've already bound her to you, so you mustn't worry about her fleeing. She will be sleeping in the basement"  
And she then proceeded to turn to me and spit on my face. And that was my first interaction with my best friend.  
\-----------------------------------  
I snapped back to reality with a loud bang. Sam had just dropped her head on the table and was out cold. I sighed and got up to pay for her drinks, keeping an eye on her. She tended to attract creepy guys whenever I wasn't around. I lifted her up on my back and we stumbled out of the bar.  
\-----------------------------------  
The day after that one, I had gone to visit Sam in her basement with as close to a breakfast as I had managed to sneak from the dining room. She was in a terrible state. She had been up all night, struggling against her shackles, shown on her bruised wrists, visible through her scales. She was drenched in sweat, and the rags she worn were even more torn apart. It wasn't a pretty sight. I nudged her awake, slightly bracing myself to getting tailed in the face. It was a wise choice. I found that her tail was hot, but it definitely wasn't burning. It definitely still hurt though.  
"What do you want, jackass?!"  
I couldn't exactly blame her, but I didn't like being beat up either. But I had to remind myself of her position though. I wasn't about to become like my dad and just take my anger out on her.  
"... I brought you breakfast."  
Sam seemed a bit surprised. She didn't look like she'd been eating a whole lot, and the flames on her tail started to die down a bit.  
"O-Oh. Thanks... I guess..."  
She took the bread I'd brought down and started biting into it.  
"What ish thish?! It'sh sho ghud!"  
She had a weird glint in her eye, and it was certainly interesting to watch her devour the piece of bread, if not slightly terrifying.  
"So... What's your name?"  
Surprisingly, she asked the question that had been on my mind first. I figured there was no harm in telling her. She was curse-bound to me, after all.  
"Markus of Alcanter. Or you can call me Mark. And you are?"  
She mumbled out something through a mouthful of bread.  
"Tzamntralah."  
"C-Come again...?"  
She swallowed her food and tried again.  
"My name is Tzamntralah. I thank you for the meal, but please leave now"  
Without another word, she pushed me toward the stairs. I thought it best to take this one step at a time, so I complied.  
\-----------------------------------  
I lay Sam down on the bed of our room in the local Inn. She tossed and turned in her sleep while I took out my favorite book to read while she wasn't around. It was an old looking encyclopedia on Reptile type monster people. I'd bought it while we were in another country, one where they're not treated as slaves. I'd found out much from this book, like why Sam would never untie her ponytail, ever: apparently it was both a symbol of a warrior and of a single Salamander. It was tradition for their hair to be cut short during the wedding ceremony, and the hair was then turned into some sort of accessory, like a braided necklace or bracelet. It also had some things about Lamias and even Dragons, though I was most interested in what made Sam tick.  
Just then, I heard her groan.  
"Maaaaaark... The thing with the ink..."  
I closed my book and turned her around, making her lie on her chest. I took out a pot of reddish purple ink and started tracing over the drawing on her back, a copy of the slave curse's brand. We'd undone the curse about five years ago, but we kept tracing it since illegally releasing a slave would most likely land you a prison sentence. Sam's tail flared up intensely once I started. As far as I knew, it only burned so much when she was angry or fighting, but it had acting up for quite some time now. I'd often wake up to a fully lit room and a sweat-covered, panting Sam. I'm not a complete idiot, so I had my suspicions, but I chose to believe her for now.  
\-----------------------------------  
The next day, we woke up early and headed out just after sunrise. Sam must've had a huge hangover, since the Innkeeper kept checking to see if we hadn't made a bonfire in our room.  
"Ugh... How much farther do we have to go today... I hate carriages..."  
"We haven't started moving, Sam."  
Instead of responding, Sam leaned out of the cart and hurled. This was gonna be a long trip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the fact that this chapter was called 'Epilogue' for a good while. My bad.


End file.
